


Love in the War

by Multifandomfuckfest



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandomfuckfest/pseuds/Multifandomfuckfest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Smith meets Rose Tyler during World War Two</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a long, hard war. Captain John Smith was readyfor it to be done. He was ready for a lot of things in fact. For the spring buttercupsto bloom and fill the surrounding war ridden fields, for the rain to stop, but most importantly to see her face again.

Not a day went past that John didn’t pray for her safe return or chastise his stupidity for putting her in the field. He never should have done it. His Rose was meant for safer destinations, not the dangers of bombings, or hiding from Nazi’s while in their household. Two months had passed since he last saw her face, two months of daily terror, two months in which everyone else had given up hope. Everyone but him. She was a nobody they’d say, sacrificed herself for the greater cause, was lacking the proper training, anything in order to get their captain’s mind back in the war room.

Captain Smith had snuck into Belin in the dead of night, to meet with one of his spies who had reported whereabouts of a new encampment. Sent in to see for himself, Smith had been walking by a local fish shop when a blonde curl caught his attention. Hair pulled back in a crimson dress and heels, Smith had to look twice before his eyes betrayed his heart proving it wasn’t his dream girl.

Snapping him back to reality was the sirens of an approaching air raid. He watched as everyone rushed to the nearest bomb shelter. But for him it didn’t matter, nothing really mattered anymore. Nothing but her. Standing there John watched the approaching airplanes overhead, the whistling of the bombs as they closed towards Earth, the explosions as one hit a nearby building sending rubble flying.

He couldn’t help but watch as another airplane overhead opened its doors, releasing another, “erhalten aus dem Weg,” screamed a man noticing Smith’s ambivalence about the crisis surrounding him.

He was about to call back for the man to leave him be but closely approaching him was a Nazi, full in uniform, rushing to prevent Smith from being crushed by the rubble as the latest bomb him. With a scream John looked over seeing a woman, the one in navy holding the hands of two young children and trying to shelter them as their bodies were cascaded with rocks. “Rose,” he called being catapulted to the ground.

In she walked wearing a yellow top and cream skirt, “how are you today,” the young woman asked.

“Fine,” Smith gruffly answered only glancing up briefly before turning back to the paperwork before him.

He could smell her perfume fill his nostrils. It reminded him of vanilla and violets fresh in the spring, the way it always smelled on his family’s farm fresh after the morning dew. “That’s wrong,” she interrupted.

“Excuse me,” John scoffed setting the paper down.

She leaned over pointing to a sentence, “fliegende Wasservogel. It should be Schwimmvogel. More precise,” she instructed.

Captain Smith swallowed hard pulling on his ear while absorbing the situation before him. How dare this secretary challenge him, “familiar with German are you,” he accused.

“Yes. Fluent,” she smiled taking his now empty plate from lunch, “from the time I was a child myand grandmother told me stories about her city. She taught me German but my mum always instructed I should never use it outside of the house or everyone would think I was a Nazi,” the young blonde explained.

Quickly he flipped the page over, “and are you? A Nazi,” Smith asked wondering how someone of German descent got a job in the war department.

“No. They fled the country because they’re Jewish. My mum is English,” she answered.

John nodded, “your father must be proud of you,” he added.

“He died when I was thirteen months old,” she said beginning to leave the room.

“Wait, what’s your name,” Captain Smith asked seeing his new secretary’s search for a fast escape.

Pausing she looked at the red nail varnish on her hand, “Rose, Rose Tyler sir. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Standing Smith pushed a pile of papers off one of his chairs, “sit,” he ushered, “tell me how did you become interested in the war,” he asked.

Rose followed his instructions, balancing his empty plate on her lap, “the movies. Everything is set in Germany. Berlin looks so romantic and foreign. It’s like a fantasy,” she confessed.

Her smile affected him in a way no one’s had before. He couldn’t stop staring at the way her pink plump lips slightly turned up. They were so inviting. “It’s nothing like the movies,” Smith assured her.

“I am fully aware of that. My father’s family is still in Germany. We still get letters from them sometimes. Well, we used to,” admitted Rose.

Nodding John set the pen he still was holding onto down, “stand up and turn around,” he ordered.

“Why,” Rose objected.

“Because I asked you to,” Captain Smith pushed at her audacity to question him.

Continuing to sit her eyes didn’t leave his, “well I’ll take it sitting down.”

John couldn’t help but snicker at her flagrance as he leaned back in his chair, “tell me everything you see in the room.”

Rose closed her eyes, “painting of Churchill on the wall behind me, brown leather couch, two pillows, one has stuffing coming out of a corner but you try to hide that, your phone is off the hook, you turned over the page when you thought I might be a spy, the pen you were just holding is black with gold trim, your eyes are brown and you tug your ear when you’re nervous,” she recited opening them again.

“How do you feel about being my personal translator,” Captain Smith questioned.

He saw her cheeks flush, “I’ve had such a big mouth all my life and now I don’t know what to say,” she laughed.

“It’s nothing glamorous,” he promised.

“Will it mean more time around you,” Rose asked.

Smith sat up straight, “will that be a problem?”

“No,” she answered looking at the crumbs on her plate.

“Well then report to me tomorrow morning. I’ll have you set up properly,” he instructed watching her leave. He hit the lottery with her. Not only was she pretty to look at but smart too. A perfect way to gain points with the dignitaries he had visiting.


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s with the blackout? Is Hitler dropping bombs tonight,” Rose laughed breaking John’s attention.

His eyes blinked focusing on her as light cascade around Rose form the doorway, “sorry. Sometimes I think better in the dark,” he sighed.

“Trouble translating again,” she beamed knowing fully well that was most likely his issue. “Why you even try when I’m not around bewilders me,” Rose giggled. “Ready when you are,” she noted sitting with a pad and pen.

The smile escaped his lips before he had a chance to reel it in. Standing John began to pace reciting the message he had been preparing in his mind. “Dear Scarlet, my wife and I have returned from the Alps with our daughter. While there we saw many horses rushing along the beach. These wild horses are often unattended in the early morning and around sundown when their stallions are eating,” he began.

“What type of horses? Mares? Foals,” Rose interrupted.

John paused turning to face her, “it doesn’t matter,” he gruffly answered.

“But it does,” protested Rose. “If it is a mare or foal it should matter. Especially if this is some sort of code. Foal could stand for younger soldiers whereas mares could be those watching the encampment.”

His mouth dropped, “you don’t trust me,” John asked as he visibly stopped his hand from going to his ear, instead allowing it to make its way to his hair.

“No,” informed Rose. “I know a spy when I see one,” she dared, “you don’t even have a wife nor a daughter,” she rebuked.

Taking two steps toward his desk John retrieved a frame of him and a dark haired woman, “this is Sarah, my wife,” he introduced handing her the photograph.

Allowing her finger to trail across the frame, Rose studied the picture for a moment. “This is Ace who was your girlfriend,” Rose dared.

“Why is a girl like you working here,” Smith questioned.

Rose licked her lips not backing down, “I just wanted to do anything to help but a girl like me couldn’t afford college,” she paused. “Why is a spy like you locked away in the office? Nothing that needs to be attend to at the moment,” she pushed.

“You think I’m a spy,” John laughed trying to hide his worry.

“Sealed documents, secret phone calls, last minute overnight trips and your bag full of winter clothes. If you really were in Switzerland at a retreat like you say you wouldn’t be packing wool socks and jumpers,” she accused.

Sirens began to ring interrupting their dual, “come with me,” John instructed grabbing Rose by the arm and leading her down stairs, “we have to hurry.”

He watched her for some sort of fear to peak through, for the worry of imminent death that usually strikes an individual when faced with the possibility of being buried alive but none showed on her face. “I hope my mum can get my nan downstairs,” Rose gasped slipping off her heels to run faster.

“This way,” John had growled instead of letting her turn to the left like all of the low levels had learned. He pulled her to the right and down three more flights into a private shelter, closing the door behind them.

Rose looked around in the darkness, “where are we,” she questioned as John flipped on a flash light and set down a brief case she hadn’t noticed him carrying in the corner.

“You’ll be safe here,” he informed her.

Still standing she met his eyes, “that isn’t what I asked,” Rose pushed.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Something you are lucky enough to have access to as my private secretary,” John smiled taking his jacket off. He sat down at the tale in the corner, “I have a feeling we’re in for a long night, drink,” he asked pulling a bottle of scotch up from a case with two glasses.

He caught her rolling her eyes before dusting off a crate to sit on, “you come prepared,” she scoffed.

“There is a bed in the corner. If I am a spy as you say I should be prepared for anything,” John replied pouring her a glass and handing it to her.

Taking a seat he watched her, the way the flash light hit her hair, cast shadows on her face, she really was beautiful. “If I drink with you will you tell me about Berlin,” Rose supplied hopefully.

“You better start drinking then,” he grinned holding his glass up for her to clink. Seeing her grimace as she swallowed he loosened his tie leaning back onto the soft bed, “I don’t watch your precious movies but I can guarantee it’s nothing like them. Whatever Berlin used to be like it isn’t anymore,” he seriously told her. Sounds of bombs shook their tiny room making Rose tremble. Carefully she stood making her way beside John on the tiny mattress, or what he thought was a mattress. “I promise you’re safe,” he assured her placing a hand over Rose’s red varnished one.

Rose quickly finished her drink, “pour me another,” she shook meeting his eyes. “How many of these have you been through,” she asked watching the dust settle after the latest rumble.

“I’ve lost count,” he confessed. “I actually had tickets to the symphony tonight. Now my tickets will go to waste,” John acknowledged.

She leaned back on the bedding finishing off her second drink, “people are dying out there and all you can worry about is your precious tickets,” Rose accosted.

“Life goes on,” he shrugged pouring her a third and trying catch up to her.

“Has the war really hardened you that much? That the death of an innocent child mars your heart none,” she questioned appalled.

Finishing his third drink Captain Smith set the bottle down, “few things make it through my defense these days.”

“Then no wonder you never married,” Rose spat setting her glass down unfinished walking towards the door.

John stood grabbing her hand, “please don’t. I’m sorry. Forgive my insolence,” he begged. Placing himself between Rose and the door John placed his hands up in innocence, “I had a wife once. She was consumed by influenza.” 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know,” she began but was interrupted by another explosion jolting the both of them.

His arm slipped around her, “come on. It’s been a long day,” John noted escorting her back to the mattress. “You can lay down. I’ll sit here. Promise,” he smiled.

Rose sat down on the mattress leaning against the wall, “there is more than enough room for two,” she suggested taking a deep breath. “We’ll just wait out this blitz together,” she decided.

“Together,” John echoed taking her hand in his.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t sleep the entire night, not even when Rose’s eyes fluttered closed and her head found its way to his shoulder slightly mewing in contentment. The next morning with the rise of the sun, arose a new relationship. Despite the low morale the London blitz left in its wake, life did go on just like John had predicted. In fact they had become quite comfortable over the past month while sharing a bed in the dark night amidst the bombings. But in the morning everything would be back to normal and strictly professional as if secret worries hadn’t been shared.

“Mr. Smith,” interrupted Rose, “Herr Dreher is here to see you,” she noted her heels notifying him of her whereabouts as she walked closer.

Looking up he pushed the rim of his glasses further up on his nose, “give me fifteen minutes,” he instructed.

Nodding Rose lifted the group of files to be sent and began to leave, “yes sir,” she commented.

“Uh, Rose,” Captain Smith called watching her cradle the files in her arm, “can you reserve a car for me tonight. I have tickets to the symphony,” he instructed.

Smiling she nodded gabbing a pen to take a note, “for what time sir,” questioned Rose.

“0630,” he noted, “I’d like to have time for dinner before,” he communicated.

Rose wrote instructions for herself, “what is it like,” she innocently asked.

“Why don’t you call me John and come find out,” he suggested.

He watched as her breath hitched, “I couldn’t,” Rose began to leave him be.

“I bet you could,” his hand reached out catching her, “please my ticket will go to waste,” he pled.

The way her face light up when she smiled was enough to take his breath away, “I have nothing to wear,” she sighed still trying to turn him down.

Captain John reached in his pocket, “you’ve been to my house before, my wife had many things that should fit you. I assure you something should be appropriate,” he urged.

“I couldn’t,” she insisted.

John stood, “Rose, it would be no problem at all. Allow me this one request. Dinner and the symphony,” he reasoned. “It will be like those movies you so often rave about,” Captain John promised tucking a blonde strand behind her ear.

“I, I don’t know what to say,” she replied.

His hand cradled her face, “then say yes,” he dared.

Licking her lips, Rose ducked her head, “thank you,” she smiled taking the keys from him.

“Is that a yes,” inquired Mr. Smith.

Rose glanced back over her shoulder, “you have Herr Dreher in ten minutes,” she reminded him leaving the office without an answer.

It was all Captain Smith could do to keep his mind off of Rose so eloquently taking notes in the corner during his appointment, “Sie schaffen eine Maschine, die andere Pflüge . Es Bomben von seinem Basis starten,” Herr Dreher explained.

His translator sat smug on the couch beside him, “they are working on chemical warfare but nothing has proved successful yet,” he incorrectly translated.

“Ahem, my pen is out of ink,” interrupted Rose meeting Mr. Smith’s confused gaze.

Standing as she did he assisted her to the door, “let me help you with that,” he fretted walking her to the door and closing Herr Dreher and his translator inside. As soon as they were at her desk he grabbed Rose’s elbow, “what is it,” Captain Smith demanded.

“He’s lying,” she whispered seriously.

Smith’s eyes searched hers for understanding, “what do you mean,” he questioned.

“Herr Dreher is talking about tanks. They have tanks,” she notified him.

In realization Captain Smith’s eyes grew wide. He took her pen writing down a number, “call this and tell them we have dirty sheets that need to be changed immediately,” he instructed looking towards his office. Smith ran his hand through his hair, “how did you know to keep quiet,” he pushed.

“I saw it in the movies,” Rose beamed. “You better get back, wouldn’t want them to be suspicious. I’ll be with you presently,” she guaranteed picking up her phone.

If she was honest with herself Rose found this all very exhilarating. The life of a spy was something only her greatest fantasies had dreamed of. Here she was living the life with a handsome Captain ordering her around. After notifying the proper individuals of their current predicament Rose joined the meeting once again waiting for the knock that would signal the end.

“Es ist die Rede von ivading Polen rieselt von oben,” Herr Dreher continued.

The interpreter nodded in understanding, “they plan to take move south,” he lied.

Captain Smith looked to Rose who gave a tiny head shake indicating that wasn’t what he said as she continued to take notes of what Herr Dreher was actually saying. The knock at the door startled her, “come in,” acknowledged Smith.

A man wearing a crisp black suit, walked in, “there seems to be a problem can I speak with you,” the man asked of the interpreter assisting him up and out of the room.

“No, please, no, there’s been a mistake,” he yelped physically being removed.

Standing Captain Smith motioned to Herr Dreher, “can you explain to him what happened,” he asked.

Rose leaned forward placing her paper down, “Er war ein Spion , über die Informationen, die Sie hatten liegen . Wahrscheinlich von den Nazis implantiert,” she explained.

“Meine Familie,” Herr Dreher worried.

Turning to Captain Smith, Rose took a deep breath, “he’s worried about his family,” she translated.

“Tell him I’ll do everything in my power to keep them protected,” Smith indicated walking over to the phone. Picking it up he dialed a number, “I need Herr Dreher’s family moved to a safe house. The information he has is viable to our campaign,” he ordered hanging up. “It is done,” he promised.

Smiling Rose turned back to Herr Dreher, “Ihre Familie wird in Ordnung sein. Kapitän Smith hat sie unter Schutz gestellt . Sie werden auf Sie warten , wenn Sie hier fertig sind,” she promised.


	4. Chapter 4

When the car came to pick up Captain John Smith from his office that night he wasn’t sure what to expect. Rose never had given him an official yes, but he desperately hoped she would be by his side. The fact that he was routinely checking his pocket watch every thirty seconds was a dead giveaway at the hopes he had for her to join him.

“Mr. Smith,” the driver greeted as he opened the door.

Jumping into the Coupe he removed his hat, “St. Andrew’s hall,” he ordered.

“Good evening John,” welcomed Rose as he met her hazel eyes. Her blonde hair was pinned up and she wore a bright emerald dress that looked like it was meant for her.

“Rose,” he gasped catching himself “I didn’t think you were going to make it,” he confessed checking his pocket to ensure the tickets were safely there.

She tried to hide her blush in the darkness of night but by the time she covered her face John had already seen the pink hints creep up her face, “you look beautiful,” he complemented.

“You don’t clean up badly either,” Rose smiled noticing he unusual more fancy attire.

Arriving at the symphony Rose tried to keep her eyes from popping out of her head. The most beautiful dresses were on display tonight. Dresses she never imagined she would see on anything but in magazines. “Are you okay,” John asked noticing her nerves.

“Yes,” Rose said taking a deep breath, “this is amazing,” she croaked, “my mum would never believe any of this,” she sighed.

John’s eyes met hers, “just believe you belong here and you’ll be fine,” he encouraged.

“But I don’t,” she dismissed.

Taking her arm, John pulled her closer to him, “you do belong here. You deserve to be here. You deserve the world Rose,” he declared. If she had any doubt in her mind John erased it in that moment, “shall we find out seats,” he suggested.

Following him Rose couldn’t believe how close they were, “this is unbelievable,” she gasped seeing the close proximity to the stage.

“I don’t do anything subpar,” responded John.

Sitting she was met by a glass of champagne as the light began to dim, “we got here just in time,” she whispered.

“No point in waiting,” grinned John.

They were met by Always In My Heart, Around The World, Blue Orchids, Auld Lang Syne, Kiss Me Goodnight, and other songs that Rose was less familiar with. More than the music or conductor Rose couldn’t get over the fact of how natural her hand felt in John’s. Maybe those nights spend in the bomb shelter had begun to wear her down. It was true that Captain Smith was quite handsome but he was her boss after all.

“Are you ready to go,” he inquired after the second round of applause had died down.

Rose nodded seeing those around them beginning to leave. “Captain,” a man greeted John.

“Bernard,” John said returning the man’s handshake, “good to see you out of the field,” he whispered just barely audible so that Rose overheard.

“It is,” the man agreed pulling the dark haired woman closer to him, “this is Opal my fiancé,” he introduced them.

John took her hand, “a lovely lady, far too lovely for this lug,” he joked of his friend.

“And who is this dame,” he questioned noticing John’s arm candy.

Taking a deep breath Rose couldn’t believe that it was she Bernard was referring to, “this is Rose Tyler,” he introduced, “she works with me,” John proudly proclaimed.

“Ah,” Bernard said pressing a kiss to her hand, “how lucky our Captain is to have a beauty like you in his office,” he complemented.

“I guarantee you she is the one schooling me,” John confessed wrapping his arm around Rose’s waist.

Caught off guard Rose met his gaze. She could almost swear, if only for a second there was admiration peering back at her. But surely someone such as himself could never admire an unschooled woman as she. “Have you two eaten yet,” inquired Bernard.

John looked to Rose, gauging her reaction, “would you like that? I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with the boss,” he winked.

“Well, my boss is a stickler,” she sighed, “if I’m late he’ll have my head,” Rose ranted.

Dipping his head beside her ear John gave a simple smile to his friend, “maybe I should get you home,” he hinted, “old war stories wouldn’t be proper for a lady like yourself,” he hinted.

“You two were in the war together,” Rose gasped in realization only discovering that she lacked tact with that comment.

Laughing Bernard gave the Captain a nod, “I think dinner is in order,” he reasoned.

Never before had Rose been to such a fancy restaurant. The menu was full of dishes she’d never heard of before. Nor had she had so much wine. It was as if they constantly ensured it was full. By the time the night was over she had learned very little about John’s war time as she had hoped and found herself a bit tipsy.

“I should get you home,” John instructed after saying farewell to his friend. Shivering in the cool Rose allowed him to guide her along the sidewalk, “are you cold,” he worried.

She tried to ignore the goose flesh rippling at her skin, “no,” Rose denied.

Not believing her John shrugged off his jacket wrapping it around he shoulders, “this should help. How far is your house,” he asked.

“On the other side of town,” she volunteered. Before John could decide whether to get a car thunder cracked above them, “is it another blitz,” Rose croaked.

John wrapped his arm around her as the skies opened up, “just rain,” he calmed. “I’m terribly sorry about this,” John apologized.

Already soaking in less than a minute Rose tried to cover her head with his coat, “your house isn’t far,” she hinted.

Rushing in his door the two of the dripped in the entry way unsure what to do next. “Let me get you some dry clothes,” he said realizing how soaking she was. Trying to decide what she wanted to do Rose leaned up on her tip toes wrapping her arms around him. Delicately kissing his lips she was unsure if she should be doing this with her boss.

Taking charge John guided her back laying her down before the fireplace. Releasing her from her dress he pulled Rose atop him, her nipple caressing his chest. As their mouths became one so did their bodies. With soft little moans escaping between tender and carefully placed touches in the flickering light.

Watching as he sprawled out after weary of what would happen Rose bit her lip. John cocooned himself around her. Rose knew that despite his silence their relationship had taken yet another turn. “What is this,” she dared to speak as his arm pulled her to him.

“Hmm,” asked John his fingers taping a trail against her arm.

Swallowing down any fear she had to know, “us. What are we,” she repeated. John’s hand stilled unsure what to say, “I’m falling in love with you,” Rose confessed. Her declaration was met with tender kisses and another round of lovemaking until they both collapsed spent from the day’s activities.

Nothing was the same again. By day they worked together and at night they became secret lovers. Sharing gentle touches and going out swing dancing, to the opera, as if the war would never touch them. But like all things during the war, everything came to an end.


	5. Chapter 5

Seven weeks after their relationship bloomed into something more the war room was ablaze with activity.

“We’ve received Colonel OSS coordinate information from behind enemy lines,” rang out one man interrupting her dictation one afternoon.

John stood obviously moved by this information, “clear the room,” he ordered to Rose allowing the man she hadn’t seen before in and locking her out.

Rose watched the clock desperately as time ticked by. Finally John emerged some hours later, “Rose,” he called, “I need a car immediately. I have to leave tonight.”

Her heart broke. He was leaving and from the looks of everyone’s faces things were about to change. Only when his car had arrived did she dare to knock on his door. Still worried about losing her composure Rose entered, “your car. It’s here,” her voice broke.

Looking up John noticed the tears streaking down her face, “Rose,” he whispered going to her and wiping the tears with his thumb. “I have to leave,” he declared.

“I know,” she agreed. But there was no other choice for her. Her hand came up to his face pulling his lips to hers, “can I go with you,” she begged.

Meeting her gaze John shook his head, “it isn’t safe there for you,” he argued.

“And it is for you,” Rose pushed.

His arms hugged her close, “you can come to the airport,” he compromised.

The entire way to the airfield Rose held his hand tightly, trying to memorize everything about him. They way John smelled, the way he tasted, the way he felt. The ride wasn’t nearly long enough.

Following him out of the car she stared at the plane that was about to take away the love of her life, “I’ll be I touch,” he promised.

“You better be,” Rose sniffed. “I love you,” she announced.

John smiled, “quite right too,” he beamed. “You’ll be safe here,” he began.

“Where are you going,” begged Rose.

His mouth opened but closed, “I don’t know,” John lied.

“You don’t know or you can’t say,” she asked already knowing the answer. His eyes revealed the answer she knew in her heart, “you’re going over there aren’t you,” Rose sobbed in realization.

Letting go of her John took a step back, “it isn’t the right time for us. I don’t want you to be waiting for me,” he clarified.

“Please don’t,” she pled, “don’t say that,” Rose protested.

“Captain, Captain, we have to go,” called a man by the plane.

John leaned in pressing a small kiss to her lips, “good bye,” he said walking away from her.

Feeling so alone Rose could do nothing else but watch him leave. She stood there, just watching, long after the plane had taken off. What was she to do now?

Turning her broken heart into the war effort Rose prayed he wouldn’t remain true to his word. She hoped for a letter, a call, anything. Every day she waited but nothing came.

Soon Rose put in for a transfer to the information center of war department. Stuck in the basement with hundreds of other women she secretly searched for word on him.

After two months she had gathered enough information to figure out John’s code name was the Doctor. She could track his dangerous liaisons and tried to get him off her mind reading about near misses and injuries but as much as she told herself she didn’t care John was always on her mind.

Watching as thousands of their boys were lost over there Rose tried to move on. She would go out with the girls to dances trying to encourage moral and often would even give a soldier a dance on his last night before shipping out.

It was at one of the dances where Rose was trying to forget the pain, trying to focus on anything but her broken heart when everything came into place. Sitting at a table she saw him. Captain John Smith. Strutting in with a woman on his arm her heart stopped. This whole time she had been waiting and he had moved on. Across the dance floor their eyes met and Rose stared down into the glass she had quickly finishing it off, ignoring the fact that John was making a bee line towards her.

“At ease gentlemen,” he broke in, “good evening. Hello Rose.”

She twirled the now empty glass in her hand trying to pretend she had no feelings for him, “what brings you town,” she questioned.

“I had to come into town for something,” he paused, “I’ll be here for a while,” John told her.

Rose nodded setting her glass down, “that’s great,” she feigned.

“Would you like to dance,” invited John.

Looking over at the woman who had been on his arm Rose shook her head, “no, you’re busy,” she sassed.

“Come one,” John tried.

Standing she shook her head, “I don’t want to dance,” Rose asserted.

Grabbing her arm John helped her to her feet, “will you all excuse us for a couple of minutes,” he said to the soldiers surrounding her. John escorted her to the door before letting go. Refusing to acknowledge him Rose’s red fingernails danced across her purse grabbing a cigarette, “how you been,” he inquired.

“Not great,” she shrugged.

John placed his hand over her free one, “no,” he reiterated.

“No,” Rose repeated.

Silence lingered between them, “when did you start smoking,” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she dismissed.

Sighing John stared out at the city, “kind of a silly thing to do,” he commented.

“I’m a silly girl doctor. I think you’re living proof of that,” spat Rose.

She pulled her hand from beneath his, “you could come work for me while I’m here. I could use a good secretary,” he hoped.

“So, that’s what you like huh? Civilized women? Women who you can take to the symphony and home to your mum,” Rose changed the subject back to the woman he had come with.

John shook his head, “no,” he began.

“Oh go to hell,” she growled. His hand reached out grabbing her, “careful you might have to admit you know me,” snapped Rose. He paused gazing into her eyes, “what do you want from me,” she shot.

Leaning in close fire roared in his eyes, “I want you to stop feeling sorry from yourself,” he explained.

“No, you want me to stop feeling. Like you,” Rose snarled. John wasn’t sure what to say as she stood there panting, anger building within her. “You did love me didn’t you? I wasn’t wrong,” she pushed.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, “you weren’t,” he confessed.

Breaking into a sob Rose tried to hold in her feelings, “then how do I stop? I want to so bad,” she pled.

Dipping his head, John’s lips were mere inches from hers, “you don’t,” he admitted.


	6. Chapter 6

Undeluded this time Rose kept herself from falling for John. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She was a young, independent woman who catered to no one. Yet, that night Rose had gone home with him and had barely stopped by her own apartment to gather things and return to his. She knew this wouldn’t last. John would be called away again. Every phone she answered and every secret meeting was a constant reminder. They had one rule at night, no work talk. Night was reserved just for them, for their two bodies becoming one, for unsaid promises neither dared to say.

Three weeks had passed without incident. Rose actually enjoyed working as a proper secretary fetching milk and tea, making copies, going home with John late at night. She relished every moment around him, even the more mundane things, “lunch,” she called interrupting the latest meeting.

John clicked a slide as she handed out everyone’s order, “Gustaff was found dead,” he told the others, “snapped neck, fell from a window,” recited John.

“When was the last entail received,” questioned Thompson.

Clicking another button led way to photographs, “we received these two weeks ago. We believe a bomb is being developed that can fly itself,” he revealed watching Rose pour his tea just the way he liked it.

“Do we have anyone else in place,” Thompson pushed.

Sitting down Rose took a bite of her sandwich, “no. Gustaff was a high class asset. He had the freedom to roam about the Schneider home unaided as the personal clothes designer of Fräulein Schneider. No one else has that level clearance,” he confessed.

“How long until we have a replacement,” asked Milman.

John paused taking a sip of his tea Rose had prepared, “we’re months out,” he frowned. “It took years to gain his trust. We can’t simply throw someone in there and expect them to be as resourceful,” he admitted.

“We need to know where this work is being done and stop it,” argued Thompson angrily standing and leaving with the others.

John sat in the dark tussling his hair unsure what to do, “I guess that briefing’s over yeah,” she questioned placing a hand over his.

“You could say that,” sighed Captain Smith. Pulling her into his lap John kissed her deeply, “enough work talk. What do you want to do tonight,” he inquired.

Meeting his gaze Rose wrapped an arm around his neck weaving her fingers into his hair, “it took years for an English speaker to gain Herr Schneider. You need someone who can speak German, someone to become Fräulein Schneider’s best friend.

“No,” he growled shaking his head.

“John, you need a new asset,” Rose reminded him.

Pushing her off his lap he stood, pacing across the front of the room, “No. I’m not going to let you commit suicide,” he snarled.

“We could meet at a shop, become friends over brunch. Photographic evidence could easily be obtained at a party. We both know they throw at least one a week,” she tempted.

Hands on his hips he stalled facing her, “no,” declared John one last time.

“I’ll quit if you don’t let me go,” threatened Rose.

John stood there quietly, “I’ll miss you,” he shrugged opting to have her quit rather than risk putting her in danger.

Angrily she marched out of the room leaving Captain Smith alone, “you’re making a mistake,” she snarled over her shoulder.

Rose discovered a long time ago when John made his mind up he kept it. There was only ever one exception she had found to be his weakness. Her. Stopping by the store Rose grabbed apples, flour, sugar, potatoes, bacon, and onions. As soon as she got home Rose kicked off her shoes tossing on an apron and got to work. If she was going to prove to John that she could do anything she had to make a game plan. He may not have wanted her as a friend but a cook, now that was a fail proof idea.

Finishing her cooking she felt thoroughly exhausted but Rose knew her day wasn’t done. Packing things into a basket she slipped her heels back on ensuring that her outfit was clean and made her way to his apartment.

Taking a deep breath Rose knocked on his door, “what,” he answered glass of scotch in hand.

Gathering a fork Rose shoved it in his mouth, “I want you to taste my strudel. The strudel my grandmum taught me to make,” she ordered moving the fork into another dish and shoving it in his mouth again, “or how about my spätzle,” she pushed scooping up a new bite, “klubkracker,” she offered giving him a bite of a potato dumpling. “She taught me how to cook like a German, how to talk like a German because I am a German,” provoked Rose.

“You’re Jewish,” he reminded her, “even more reason for you to stay far away from Berlin. This isn’t the movies Rose. If you go in,” John paused, “I can’t protect you from the outside,” he objected.

Reaching up Rose cupped his face, “it’s even more of a reason to let me help,” she nagged searching his eyes hopefully.

“Fourteen days. That’s it,” he relented tugging her inside his door.

After another night spent together Rose awoke before John. She laid there watching him sleep for a while. Leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips John’s eyes sleepily opened, “morning,” purred Rose, “I’ll make coffee. We have a big day, plans to make,” she suggested.

His hand reached out encircling her wrist, “please don’t do this,” he begged.

Falling against his chest Rose searched his eyes, “don’t you understand? I have to. Just like you,” she explained.

“No it isn’t like me. I signed up for this a long time ago. You didn’t,” argued Captain Smith.

Her hand laid against his cheek, “John that’s exactly what I did,” she pushed. “The day I met you I knew what I was getting into. I knew you were a spy and I dove head first,” she proclaimed. “I don’t regret any of it. Can’t you understand I need to do this,” she begged.

Rolling over John pinned her hands, “only if you promise to come back to me,” he smiled.

“Like I would dare do anything but,” Rose pointed out leaning up and capturing a kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

It took a week to organize everything, her way in, false paperwork, things a real spy needed. On the train into Berlin they shared a private car, “you didn’t have to come,” Rose mumbled against his skin curled up in his arms.

“Like I had another choice,” he snickered.

Silence may have hung in the air but Rose’s mind was anything but. Thoughts of her cousins in hiding, being caught, bombing brigades all rambled about.

The whole way to the train station John held her close as if he was afraid to let go, worried she would never again return to him, “is this how you felt,” he finally asked breaking the silence.

Rose leaned up cupping his cheek, “possibly,” she affirmed. “I think I was as worried you wouldn’t come back as I was that you would,” she confessed.

“You better come back,” he ordered holding her tight.

Turning, Rose straddled his lap, “how long to we have,” she questioned looking out the window.

“Not long enough,” declared Captain Smith.

Unbuckling his stolen Nazi uniform Rose tugged up his shirt, removing his belt and slid her hand into his trousers, “we’ll make sure it’s enough,” she whispered pressing her mouth to his.

John’s and came up lifting her skirt and tugging her stockings down. Rose could feel him hard beneath her as his thumb found her mound flicking it and sending jolts coursing through her body, “shh,” he quieted her as she let out a moan of ecstasy. “Don’t want to get caught,” he reminded her having to catch his own moan as she slid onto him.

Muffled whispers were camouflaged by the rocking and loud clacking of the tracks as they came in unison. Relaxing against his uniform Rose couldn’t help but pant trying to catch her breath. “I’ll miss this,” she grinned.

“It will only be two weeks,” prompted John. “Two weeks until you return to me,” he beamed. A loud whistle ran through the air as the train began to slow, “we’re coming into the station,” he instructed.

Standing she pulled her skirt down, adjusting her nylons and hair. Rose couldn’t help but watch John do the same wondering if this would be the last time she would see him. A lot could happen in two weeks. Rose pinned her hat on, “ready,” she asked aloud more to herself than him.

John nodded as the train came in, escorting her to the door and helping her down the steps. “I’ll meet you in two weeks. On this platform two weeks from today,” he reiterated before pausing. His eyes darted around before leaning in close to her, “are you sure you want to go through with it,” he questioned one last time.

Rose licked her lips, “yes,” she affirmed, “where is he.”

Pausing John’s hand came up to her cheek, “Rose, if it’s my last time to tell you,” his voice wavered, “I.”

“Don’t,” interrupted Rose, “don’t act like you’re never going to see me again. Don’t make false promises,” she dared. “Where is he,” Rose questioned again.

Captain Smith nodded to a man before him, standing with a suitcase of his own, “right in front of me,” he instructed. “Take care of yourself,” he ordered.

“See you in two weeks,” smiled Rose walking away.

Every day without her was misery. He frantically waited in the basement for some sort of news, anything on how she was doing, on intelligence she was passing through but more days than not nothing was noted. Make that every day. And every day they were separate his heart grew bigger. John knew what he had to do when he saw Rose again. There was only one thing he could do.

When two weeks came John couldn’t wait for that train. The ride was entirely too long. He couldn’t wait to see her again, to smell her, to taste her. For Captain John Smith that platform held much more than meeting an informant. That platform was the rest of his life. Hidden in his pocket was a special present reserved for their ride home. A present that she would hopefully wear the rest of their life.

He eagerly waited for her as an hour passed, two hours, even three. As the hours lagged on John began to become worried. He couldn’t go into Berlin, his pass didn’t hold for it. He’d have to come back. But what if she was just running late and missed him?

Reluctantly, an hour before his pass expired John boarded the last train back to neutrality. Tomorrow he would be back with new papers, papers that allowed him to reach out to her contacts. Papers that would help him find her.

Returning back that night was one of the hardest things Captain John Smith ever did. That night while his papers were created in the utmost haste he called everyone he knew in Berlin. No one had heard from her since last Monday. A week, an entire week and no one had heard from her. He had hoped that it was just she wasn’t able to get word to him. Now his worst fear was becoming a reality. Rose could be in serious trouble, if not dead.

Sitting in his hotel room the only thing that kept him somewhat sane was a bottle of scotch and a photograph of her. Her face was the only thing that could quell his fear. That entire night John didn’t sleep. Halfway through the night he had pulled out her ring turning it over and over in his hands, praying she would be able to wear it one day. As soon as his papers were done John was on the next train. He searched everywhere.

Two months passed and no word. Two months that John became more hardened every day. Nothing could give him life like she could. Every day he went searching in hopes that someone would know something only to return to an empty hotel room, a new bottle of scotch and the ring that was meant to be hers. Running out of time John was about to risk everything for her. Even if it meant his own life.

Walking up to the house he had seen in photographs a million times he swallowed down any fear. Anything was worth it for her. Reaching up he knocked on the brown door, “ist Frauline Heinrich hier,“ he questioned.

“Nein,“ the housemaid replied.

John nodded realizing his search had come to an end. “Danke,“ he thanked her. Wherever Rose was, whatever she was doing, his hope that she was alive was dwindling by the second. No one had heard of her. She hadn’t been seen for months. When he returned to London he would need to go meet with her Mum and inform her of her only daughter’s death. Broken, John left Berlin that night to ready his trip home.

He had just packed all his things in his home away from home when a late night knock interrupted his drunken pity party. “Captain Smith,” a young man asked.

“Yes,” he slurred.

The man handed John a folder, “one of our potentials has decided to turn. He wants to come to Britain for information on a new type of bomb the Nazis have designed. Says it flies,” the man reported.

John’s attention was grabbed now. As much as he wanted to sulk home he knew his duty to the country was more important than that. Sighing he took the folder, “I’ll leave tonight,” he agreed.


	8. Chapter 8

The bus he had to take from the train into Postdarn was a rickety little thing. He watched as the passengers came and went and he had to continue for another hour, further out from the city, and into Nazi deep territory.

Getting off at his assigned stop Captain Smith searched for the shop he was supposed to meet his new informant. Looking for the right place John crossed the street beside a fish shop. Whether it was the desperation of hope or his sanity finally leaving a blonde haired woman caught his attention. A blond that his heart told him was Rose. Set in a red dress with matching heels he followed her up the street for a moment hoping to catch a look at her face. When the woman turned his face dropped, dashing any hope that she was his Rose.

Before he could return to his search for their meeting place sirens broke through the air informing him that bombers were enroute. Reminded of his lacking life John could care less about what could occur in the next few moments. As the planes came into view he allowed the part of him that wanted to be bombed win over. The explosions ringing out around him just reminded him of mortality and the hope he now had for it.

Watching another plane opening its doors John saw the bomb release. “Erhalten aus dem weg,” yelled a uniformed Nazi running towards him. His hands came up to signal the soldier away when another blonde caught his attention.

Holding the hands of two children was a young woman with her blonde curls pinned up, only one coming down and framing her face. Before him was the one he had been searching for so long, “Rose,” he called out before an explosion forced him to a ground.

“Mina, komm schon,“ plead two children as John came too.

He felt a hand on his face, “shh,“ she calmed them, “eine sekunde,“ she urged. “John,“ a familiar voice called to him.

“I must be dead,“ he mumbled blinking his eyes open. Above him was a blonde who resembled that of his Rose.

Their smile was even similar, “you shouldn’t be here,“ she whispered in english looking over he shoulder every two seconds at the two children standing beside her.

“Either should you,“ he coughed beginning to sit up.

Placing her hand on his chest Rose met his gaze, “careful,“ she warned moving to allow him up th erest of the way.

“Lass uns gehen,“ chimed in the little girl tugging on Rose’s shoulder. “Ich will nach Hause gehen,” she begged.

“Wir werden in Kürze,“ promised Rose grabbing the attention of a soldiger. “Ich brauche dich , um sie mit nach Hause nehmen. Das sind die Kinder von Herr Farber,“ she instructed.

The little boy tugged on Rose’s skirt, “ warum können Sie nicht uns zu nehmen,“ he begged.

“Moment habe ich zu dieser verletzt Mann helfen,“ she instructed, “ gehen,“ Rose ordered to the children and the soldiger.

John’s hand met hers as she helped him up allowing his arm to lean on her shoulder, “am I dreaming,” he questioned again.

“No, I have to get you to the bus. We need to get out of here,” she hurried.

Stopping he took her face in his hand pulling her lips to his, “I love you Rose Tyler. If I never have another chance to say it,” Captain Smith declared.

Smiling she pulled him along refusing to stop any longer, “as soon as Herr Faber realizes I’m gone he will be searching for me,” revealed Rose. “He’s been onto me. This will be the last straw,” she confessed.

“It is a good thing I came to get you,” joked John.

Rolling her eyes Rose took a deep breath closing the distance between the bus stop, “I hope it is still running,” she whispered. “If someone spots me go without me,” she instructed pushing a camera into his hands, “develop these. Everything is on there,” she pushed closing his hand around it.

“Rose,” he protested but she shushed him coming up to the stop.

Seeing others she stopped at the corner, “ist es immer noch läuft,” she asked.

“Ja,” answered a man.

Moving slightly away from them she heled John to sit kneeling before him and looking at the bleeding cut on his head. “I think your wounds are superficial. My grandmother always told me heads bleed a lot,” she worried pressing a piece of cloth against it.

“I won’t leave you,” argued John.

Shaking her head Rose looked about, “you will have to. Herr Faber is too suspicious. Our country needs this,” she urged pointing to the film. “If you don’t everything will have been for nothing,” Rose pushed.

Farber. John recognized that name. “Farber, Geroff Farber,“ he asked. Farber was one of Schneider’s known associates. If Rose was working there she was doing so for a reason. His house was further out than any of the other SS officers. No wonder she had been out of contact for so long.

“I went to work for Herr Farber as a nanny taking care of his two children. Only in the last week did I find out about his hidden office downstairs. I think he suspected me of snooping where I shouldn’t,” she explained seeing the bus come down the street.

Allowing her to help him up John winced in pain, “you have what we need,” he inquired.

“Everything,” she assured him as the bus stopped and she helped him on.

Sitting on the rickety seats John refused to take his arm off her. “I will get you out of here,” he promised, “whatever it takes.”

“No, you will get that film out of here and win the war,” Rose corrected.

His feisty little warrior, “in my inside pocket,” John coughed.

“What,” Rose tried to clarify.

Reaching he tried to not react in pain as Rose’s hand came up to the outside of his heart reaching inside his pocket. “It’s yours,” he told her.

“What is,” she said realizing what she was searching for. “Oh John,” Rose gasped pulling the box from his pocket.

Taking it from her his shaking hand searched for her ring finger, “will you marry me,” he asked.

“Yes,” she practically squealed melting her mouth into his until an older woman behind them cleared her throat upset at their show of affection.

The half hour trip that had taken him away from Berlin turned into an hour return trip from all the air raid damage. But eventually, they made it to the train, with Rose’s help. Helping explain they were escaping to better treatment and new SS orders they both were allowed on the train to Switzerland.

Locking themselves in a car Rose curled up in John’s arms, “do you think this is enough to help end the war,” she questioned.

Quietly John sat for a moment, “Rose Tyler I think you’ve got everything you ever wanted. You could be your own war movie,” he joked. “You have found love, changed the angry soldier and selflessly ended the war all by yourself,” he promised. “This information will be more than enough to prevent further deaths from occurring,” Captain Smith declared.

“I guess it is a good thing I walked into your office then,” she hinted.

Leaning in for another kiss John captured her lips, “very much so,” he affirmed, “very much so.”


End file.
